Journey into the Void (35 page)

He muttered the ritual prayer over the night fire, began to bank the coals.

“For what reason?”

“For the reason you said. That no one cared about her.” Wolfram stood up, wiping his hands. He looked at Ranessa, looked at her hard and intently. “You of all people should understand that.”

He walked off to his bedroll. Wrapping himself in his blanket, he saw
her still standing there, staring after him. Wolfram drifted off to sleep with a warm glow. He'd finally managed to have the last word.

 

The next morning, Ranessa was gone.

Wolfram searched the area around their campsite, but there was no sign of Ranessa in any form—human or dragon. He told himself that she was hunting; her dragon form required an enormous amount of meat, and she often left to go after deer or mountain goat. Depending on her mood, she would sometimes bring him back a haunch to roast.

The nagging thought persisted that this time she'd carried through on her threat. He'd made her angry enough last night that she'd left without him. He wandered about the shoreline of the river, wondering bleakly what he would do. With her, the quest had been just short of hopeless. Without her…

“I'll go on,” Wolfram said to his reflection that wavered in the water at his feet. “I've committed myself. It will take years, maybe. The rest of my life.”

He smiled ruefully. “I'll be like Lord Gustav and his mad quest. They'll be singing songs of
me
next.”

A shadow glided over him, the shadow of vast wings. Wolfram looked up in joy and relief. Ranessa flew above him, wheeling about him in tight circles.

“You're looking in the wrong place!” she called down to him. “The taan traveled north of here. Far north. They crossed the Arven River near New Vinnengael.”

Wolfram gaped at her. “How do you know?”

“What?” Ranessa bent her head. “I can't hear you.”

“How do you know?” he bawled.

“Oh,” she said. “I asked.”

“Asked what?” Wolfram demanded. “Asked who?” He waved his arms to indicate the vast and empty wilderness. “There's no one around here to ask!” Ranessa muttered something.

“What did you say?” he shouted.

“If you must know, I asked a seagull.”

“Come down here!” Wolfram commanded, pointing at the ground. “I'm losing my voice!”

Ranessa circled down slowly. Finding a clear place to land, she settled down on the sun-warmed rocks.

“I thought you said you asked a seagull,” said Wolfram, coming over to stand near her snout.

“I did,” said Ranessa. “I asked a seagull if he had seen any of these taan, and he told me all about them. It's been the talk of the bird community for months,” she added disparagingly. “They have so little to occupy their tiny minds.”

“I didn't know you could talk to seagulls,” Wolfram said, amazed.

“Well, I can,” said Ranessa. She didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

“Is that something all dragons can do?”

“I suppose so. Look, now that we know their direction, shouldn't we be going?”

“Just a moment,” said Wolfram. “Do you mean to say that during this time we've been flying hither and yon, searching for the trail of these taan, all you had to do was ask a passing bird?”

Ranessa stared straight ahead.

“Girl,” said Wolfram, in exasperation, “why didn't you?”

Ranessa glanced down at her nose at him. “Talking to birds is just so…pecwae.”

“Pecwae?”

“Yes, pecwae. Are you coming?” she demanded irritably.

“I'm coming,” said Wolfram. He climbed up on her back, careful to keep his chuckle to himself.

T
HE VOYAGE OF THE ORKEN SHIP CARRYING SHADAMEHR AND HIS
companions was idyllic, a journey of bright sunshine and rushing winds and foaming water. The ship sailed rapidly, thanks to the remarkably fine weather and the magical talents of Quai-ghai, ship's shaman, and Griffith, ship's passenger. One used her magic to calm the waters. The other used his magic to summon the winds. The ship sped through the Sea of Sagquanno, rounded the Cape of Bad Omens safely, and entered the Sea of Orkas in record time.

Captain Kal-Gah was impressed. He'd never realized how valuable an elf who worked Air magic could be. Taking Griffith aside, the captain offered him a permanent job as Ship's Second Shaman. Griffith expressed his appreciation and honor, but was forced to refuse.

“Since the Wyred paid for my training,” he explained, “they would not look kindly upon me selling my skills in magic to anyone else.”

Captain Kal-Gah understood. He offered to cut the Wyred in for a small share of the takings, if that would make them happy.

Griffith said he was afraid that it wouldn't.

Captain Kal-Gah did not give up on his scheme, however. Orks have long been prejudiced against the magic of other races, considering that any orken shaman who uses magic other than the magic of water is the next best thing to a traitor. Captain Kal-Gah began to think that this was narrow-minded of his people, and he hinted broadly to a shocked Quai-ghai that she should broaden her horizons.

While Griffith spent his time with Quai-ghai, learning Water magic spells, Damra was relaxing for the first time in her life. Lulled by the beauty of the sea and the knowledge that she was cut off from the world and that no one could make demands of her, she passed her days in quiet, spiritual meditation and reflection. At night, she found comfort in her husband's arms.

Shadamehr spent the voyage improving his knowledge of the art of sailing. He was already familiar with navigation, having learned that on a previous voyage. Now he was intent upon learning all he could about the ship. He climbed up the rigging and descended into the hold. He burned all the skin off his palms sliding down a rope and nearly broke his neck in a fall from a mast. Fortunately, he landed in the water. The orks were able to fish him out. He came dripping wet on board, laughing and claiming that he'd enjoyed the swim.

Seeing that he was serious in his study, the orks were glad to teach him. They said he was lucky, for there had not been a bad omen since he came on board.

Shadamehr didn't feel lucky, or even very content. For some inexplicable reason, Alise was not happy, and he couldn't understand why. He went out of his way to play the perfect lover, but romantic words brought sarcastic responses and his melting looks caused her eyes to raise to the heavens. She was by turns snappish and sharp-tongued or silent and aloof. Sometimes, he would catch her regarding him with a look of sadness that was mingled with frustration.

“I don't understand women,” Shadamehr complained plaintively to Griffith. “I'm trying to be what she wants me to be, and yet she will have none of me. Which rhymes, by the way.”

“Are you?” Griffith returned. “Or are you trying to be what you want her to want you to be?”

Thinking gloomily that he would never understand elves either, Shadamehr went back to the rigging.

The ship left the Sea of Orkas, turning north to sail up the Straits. One day—the day after the day the orks hauled Shadamehr out of the sea—he was standing at the railing, practicing with the sextant, when Alise walked up and stood beside him.

She had been avoiding him as if he'd adopted the orken habit of slathering himself all over in fish oil and he was surprised to see her, surprised and pleased.

“So, where are we?” she asked.

“By my calculations, somewhere north of Tromek,” Shadamehr replied blithely.

Alise looked at him in astonishment, and he saw the ghost of a smile play on her lips. The smile vanished swiftly, however, and she turned her gaze back out to sea.

“You're working very hard at enjoying yourself,” she remarked. “So hard you nearly broke your fool neck.”

“If it comes to that,” Shadamehr replied. “You're working very hard at
not
enjoying yourself. Alise, we have to settle this between us—”

She gazed out over the sun-sparkled waves. “It is settled. I don't want you to love me. I want things to go back to the way they were between us. As if nothing had happened.”

“I don't think that's possible, Alise,” said Shadamehr.

For a minute she looked defiant. Then she sighed. “No, I don't suppose it is.”

“You are afraid,” he said suddenly.

She bristled. “I am not.”

“Are, too!” he returned mockingly. Seeing her color rise in her cheeks, he added, “You're afraid that if we're lovers, we can't be friends. That we'll lose what we have together.”

“Well,” she said to him, challenging. “Haven't we?”

“No, I—” Shadamehr paused. He stood there with his mouth open. For, by the gods, they had lost it.

She walked away, left him standing at the taffrail, staring unseeing at the rolling waves and their foaming wake.

 

The joyful spirit of the passengers evaporated as the
Kli'Sha
sailed into what the orks knew as the Blessed Straits. In order to reach Krammes, the orks would have to sail past the isle of Mount Sa 'Gra, their sacred mountain that was now in the hands of the detested Karnuans. The orks avoided sailing in this direction if they could help it. It was not that they feared attack. Land-bound warriors, the Karnuans knew better than to fight the orks at sea, where the orks would have all the advantages. The orks could not bear to look at the peaks of the revered mountain and imagine the humans defilers walking the halls of their temples.

The orken lookouts sighted a few ships flying the Karnuan flag, but
those turned tail the moment they saw the orken pennant and sailed away, to jeers and challenges from the orken crew.

Mount Sa 'Gra, with its plume of smoke streaming from the snow-whitened top, came into sight. The captain ordered all hands on deck. The orks lined the rails and climbed into the rigging. Taking off their caps, they gazed longingly at the mountain. Quai-ghai, their shaman, recited an orken prayer in low, solemn tones.

Although Damra could not understand the words of the chant, she could hear the grief and aching pain in the shaman's voice and see it reflected on the faces of the orks. The chant ended in a fierce, strong shout. The orks shook their fists in the direction of their mountain, their voices joining that of their shaman in a thunderous roar.

“They vow to return,” said Captain Kal-Gah, translating. “And on that day, the Blessed Straits will run red with Karnuan blood.”

“Given your anger,” Griffith said, “I am surprised that you haven't tried to take your mountain back by now.”

“The Captain of Captains is wise,” stated Kal-Gah. “We are gallant warriors on board our ships, hopeless bunglers on land.” He grinned suddenly. “Being an ork, I can say that though I would cut your throat from ear to ear if you said it, Baron.”

Kal-Gah clapped Shadamehr on the back, a blow that propelled him halfway across the deck.

“We have heard,” Kal-Gah added more solemnly, “that the Captain has a secret force of orks assembled in Harkon. They wait for the right omens to attack.”

“Is that true?” Alise asked, interested.

“Whether it is or it isn't, it keeps the Karnuans from sleeping well at night,” said the captain. He gazed back at the mountain, dwindling on the horizon, and his smile tightened to a grim line. “We will come back. Someday.”

The elves and humans took their meals in their cabin, away from the orks, mainly because the sight and smell of orken food was too much for them to stomach. That night, the orks had captured a large squid and were anticipating a grand feast.

The mere thought of eating the squirming, slimy creature was enough to ruin Damra's appetite, and she only picked at her meal, which wasn't all that great to begin with. The ship had stopped at one of the
towns along the coast to take on supplies, so the elves were able to add nuts and dried fruits to the menu of hard-baked biscuit and cheese. Having eaten nothing else for days on end, Damra thought that if she never saw another fig for as long as she lived, it would still not be long enough.

To add flavor to the meal, the four discussed the orken political situation.

“I can't imagine what it would be like to lose someplace that you love and revere so much,” said Alise. “To know that people who care nothing about it are probably writing nasty words on the walls of the temple where your god resides.”

“And where they toss their sacrificial victims into the bowels of the sacred mountain,” said Shadamehr cheerfully.

“Do they?” asked Damra, amazed.

“Yes, I'm afraid so. The orks consider it a great honor, actually, to be given to the god of the mountain. And thus most of the victims they sacrifice are orks, who presumably think a leap into molten lava leads to heaven.”

“But to take life, which is sacred, is not right,” Damra argued.

“According to your gods. Not according to the orken god. Would you impose your beliefs on the orks? That's what the Karnuans did, you know. That was the excuse they used to capture the sacred mountain. They claimed that offering living sacrifices was offensive to the gods.”

“It is,” said Damra.

“And slaughtering thousands of orks and enslaving thousands more
isn't
offensive to the gods?” Shadamehr asked, with a wink at Griffith.

“Don't encourage him, Damra,” said Alise. “My lord Shadamehr will argue that the ocean is dry and the sun shines at midnight, if you let him.”

“Still—” Damra began.

She was interrupted by the arrival of one of the cabin boys, the son of Captain Kal-Gah, brought along on this voyage to learn the trade.

“Sir,” said the boy, thrusting his head in through the door, “the shaman said for you to come right away. She's doing her daily water speak, and it seems that someone is trying to contact you.”

“May I come along, my lord?” asked Griffith eagerly. “I've never seen this spell performed. Unless you think this message might be private.”

“No, no,” said Shadamehr gaily. “I have no secrets. So long as Quai-ghai
does not mind your presence, I have no objection. Ladies? Would you like to come along, too? Although her cabin is small, and I suppose all of us would be rather a tight fit.”

Alise said she was going to bed, and Damra wanted to meditate. Griffith and Shadamehr were on their own.

“I'll wager I'm not going to like whatever it is I'm about to hear,” Shadamehr predicted gloomily, as they followed the cabin boy belowdecks to Quai-ghai's quarters.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because no one goes out of his way to tell you good news, yet people fall all over themselves to tell you the bad stuff.”

The cabin boy shushed them as they approached Quai-ghai's cabin. He did not knock on the door, but gently opened it to admit the two men. They slid quietly inside, trying their best not to disturb the shaman's concentration.

Quai-ghai sat at a table in front of a large bowl fashioned out of an enormous quahog shell. Seawater in the bowl moved gently with the motion of the ship. Quai-ghai was talking to the water, asking questions and receiving answers. Cocking her head, she listened, then replied.

“Wonderful!” Griffith breathed softly, as he took his place opposite the table. “Have you ever seen this done before?”

Shadamehr shook his head. Quai-ghai flashed them both an irritated glance, and Griffith lowered his voice to a whisper.

“She and another shaman can communicate directly with each other with this magic. All that is required is that each have a bowl of water and know the proper spell. Wyred who are permitted to study Water magic find this spell to be invaluable for rapid communication over long distances.”

“I should think so,” said Shadamehr, intrigued.

“The two people must establish a certain time of day when both will be present,” Griffith continued. “According to Quai-ghai, almost all orken shamans choose sunset as the time they will be at their posts, in order to receive or send messages.”

Quai-ghai lifted her head. “The spell is ended. You no longer have to whisper. Do you know someone named Rigiswald?”

“Crotchety old geezer? Bad-tempered, but a snappy dresser?”

“I didn't see him,” said Quai-ghai with dignity. She frowned at the baron. “This is a serious matter.”

“Sorry,” said Shadamehr meekly. “Please go on.”

“The Rigiswald person hired a shaman to contact you through me. The shaman has been trying for a week, and finally managed to speak to me this day. The Rigiswald person says to tell you that Dagnarus, Lord of the Void, is now King of Vinnengael.”

“At which news, I am sure, there was much rejoicing,” said Shadamehr dryly.

“The Rigiswald person says to tell you that Dagnarus has the support of the people, for he led the battle against the taan army and slaughtered them.”

“The taan army that he brought himself?” said Shadamehr, lifting an eyebrow. “That was good of him. What else?”

“The Rigiswald person says to tell you that Dagnarus has ordered all his barons to New Vinnengael to do him homage and swear their loyalty to him. If they decline, their property and assets are forfeit to the crown. According to this Rigiswald,” Quai-ghai added, her voice softening, “the king has seized your lands and your keep and all your revenue. The Rigiswald person warns that if you go back, you are in danger. Your keep is not all that you will lose.”

“I see,” said Shadamehr quietly. He could feel Griffith's gaze on him, but he chose not meet it. He stared unseeing at the bowl of water. “Anything more?”